


Bad Days

by bakerst_sherlolly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, briefly mentioned patient miscarriage, but it's not molly or any major character, you don't "see" it happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4219500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakerst_sherlolly/pseuds/bakerst_sherlolly





	Bad Days

Molly Hooper-Holmes felt like crap. Today was just not her day. She had a particularly gruesome autopsy to attend to; a young woman and her unborn child died in a car accident. Usually, she had a stomach of steel but she could barely finish this particular autopsy. As soon as it was over she locked herself in her office and cried for a solid half hour. If Sherlock were there, he would tell her that it wouldn’t help the woman or her child that she was crying, because they were dead already. She knew that, of course she did. But she couldn’t help cry for all the things that could’ve been, the life that mother and child could have shared together. She cried at the cruelty of fate, because as much of an optimist as she was she knew that life could be cruel, oh-so-cruel. After the autopsy, things didn’t go any better. She had to fill out tedious paperwork and attend some equally tedious meetings. She couldn’t wait to get home to Toby, curl up on the sofa and watch some telly, anything really, until she fell asleep. Sherlock wouldn’t be coming home tonight, he was on a case, and she didn’t like sleeping in their bed without him.

She got to Baker Street but she could barely drag her feet up the stairs from exhaustion and sadness. The autopsy still weighed heavily on her mind and she simply needed to be sad for a few hours. Sometimes you just need to be sad, and she was glad in a way that Sherlock was away even though she wished he was there to comfort her. He has come a long way since she first met him in the morgue, but there were certain things he would have trouble understanding even now.

She made herself a nice cuppa, brought the tray of biscuits and a blanket to curl up with on the couch, and set off to watch some telly. Toby of course, would eventually make his way to her feet, but not right now as he was occupied with finishing his delicious tuna dinner.

She was drifting in and out of consciousness, waiting for sleep to finally take over, barely registering whatever late-night talk show was playing on TV when she heard the stairs creak. She jumped up and very quietly grabbed the now-empty tray of cookies and positioned herself behind the door. In Sherlock’s line of work you never knew when you’d get an unwelcome visitor, especially at ungodly hours of the night. She heard the intruder reach for the doorknob, open the door and just as she was poised to incapacitate whoever dared to disturb her peace and her home she got a whiff of a very distinct smell. It was Sherlock’s cologne, mixed with the smell of gasoline and a little bit of musk. She dropped the tray and instead latched herself onto her detective’s neck burying her face into the crook of his neck.

“Sherlock! I missed you…”

“Mmm, _I_ missed _you,_ ” Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist and buried her nose in her soft hair. He picked her up and walked her over to the sofa, sat down and positioned her in his lap while still holding on to her.

“You’re home early,” She still had her face buried in the crook of his neck. It just felt comfortable like that.

“Easier case than Lestrade led on. Barely a 9.”

“Good,” she placed a few kissed on the side of his jaw, “I’m glad you came early.” The stayed in comfortable silence, Sherlock stroking Molly’s back and kissing the top of her head and Molly keeping her hand on Sherlock’s chest and occasionally stroking her thumb over his sternum.

“Molly, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just glad you’re home early. I missed you.”

“Molly…” She hated that he could tell that something was wrong because that meant telling him everything that happened today, and while she had no doubt that Sherlock would actually find the autopsy very fascinating from a scientific point of view, she simply was not ready to hear his ‘reasoning’ as to why she shouldn’t have cried. It was, however, pointless to try and hide it from him. He already deduced that something was not right and was waiting for her to tell him, rather than deducing it himself.

She took a deep breath and started going with him through her day and by the time she got to the end, she was sobbing into his shirt.

“I’m sorry Sherlock. I know you probably think it’s silly, but I can’t help but be affected by what I see on my slab sometimes,” she sniffled and tried to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand.

Sherlock took her face in his hands and forced her to look into his eyes.

“Molly Hooper-Holmes, why do you insist on believing that I will belittle your emotions? I don’t always fully comprehend why you cry at certain external situations, be it movies, books or even autopsies, but I promise you that I will never again make fun of you or try to ‘reason’ you out of letting your feelings come up to the surface. I promise you, I will let you sit in my lap and cry every single day if it makes you feel better and if it will make you finally believe that you and your love have changed me so much, my darling, and that I could never again discount your feelings and emotions as I did in years past.”

She felt so overwhelmed with emotions, this time not for what happened during the day but from Sherlock’s beautiful declaration of love, because while he didn’t outright say ‘I love you’, she knew he meant it. His eyes were speaking the truth, just as his mouth was, and in more than one way as he proceeded to thoroughly kiss her, in order to show her that he meant every word he said.

They were far from perfect and she sometimes thought far from functional, but moments like these made her believe in their union and in the age-old saying that marriage does indeed change people. A terrible day turned out not to be so bad after all, once they both had another cup of tea, a proper run-through of Sherlock’s case and some cuddles, before both of them drifted off into peaceful slumber.


End file.
